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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405735">Medusa</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eryth_sea/pseuds/eryth_sea'>eryth_sea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explosions, Gen, Minor Injuries, Research, Soul Selling, Witch Curses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:14:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eryth_sea/pseuds/eryth_sea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"In south-eastern Rigel, there was a local legend about a witch that lived in Fear Mountain. They weren't on about Nuibaba, who did exist until the Saint-King plunged his sword into her chest. Instead, the more superstitious locals would say that a new witch took her place."</p>
<p>When Sonya said she would do anything to restore the witches of Valentia, she didn't realise how much she would have to sacrifice to achieve her goal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Nuibaba's Abode, 405 V.C. </em>
</p>
<p>In south-eastern Rigel, there was a local legend about a witch that lived in Fear Mountain. They weren't on about Nuibaba, who did exist until the Saint-King plunged his sword into her chest. Instead, the more superstitious locals would say that a new witch took her place.</p>
<p>While it was true that there was a woman who lived in the abode, the only curses she uttered were the kind you would hear at a tavern.</p>
<p>Such as when she sliced open her finger while turning a page.</p>
<p>She sucked at the bleeding digit, the metallic taste more familiar than she would like. She had frequently cut herself in this manner ever since she found out about the plethora of books on witchcraft that existed in the crumbling ruin. Her nose had adjusted to the smell of musty books days ago, only noticing it in infinitesimal doses when the turning of a page wafted its scent in her direction. She scanned the page until she found the passage she needed:</p>
<p> <em> “Mana herbs are repulsive to any witch that has offered their soul to Lord Duma” </em></p>
<p>That was the information she needed to finish her first potion. She pushed the chair back, cringing at its shrieking resistance against the floorboards. Still, it was better than scraping her knees against the wooden desk like she did last time.</p>
<p>She walked from her desk to her ingredient shelf, the open book balanced precariously in the palm of her hand. She picked up a jar labelled “Mana Herbs” with her other hand. Upon closer inspection there was only enough herbs to cover the bottom of the container. She returned to her desk with it in hand, reading the next couple of pages to see if there was anything about how much she should use. </p>
<p>Alas, she found nothing. </p>
<p>It wasn't surprising that a book as old as this one wouldn’t have much about potions, but it was worth checking. Now that the Age of Gods was over mages needed new sources for their magic, and potion-making was one of many emerging fields. It had existed before, as a means of healing wounds or expelling poison, but now people all over Valentia were exploring other potential uses. However, this meant that the practice was still in its early stages.</p>
<p>Sonya snapped the book shut and placed it on top of a row of jars on the shelf. There was no need for it now.</p>
<p>She looked into the bubbling cauldron that rested underneath the shelf, seeing if she could eyeball the amount of herbs to put in. The contents of the cauldron looked more like soup broth than the types of concoctions she saw growing up.</p>
<p>Instead of throwing all the herbs in, she decided it was better to add it in increments. She unscrewed the jar, tipped some of the herbs into the palm of one hand and took a pinch out with the other. She sprinkled it in and stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon. </p>
<p>A brief rumble was the only warning she got before the cauldron exploded, blasting hot liquid and shrapnel in all directions. </p>
<p>Sonya's hands flew in front of her face in an attempt to shield herself from the blast. For a moment she could feel nothing but the ringing in her ears, which in and of itself caused her to wince. When the ringing subsided to a tolerable level, she stretched her arms in front of her and assessed the damage.</p>
<p>The first thing she noticed was that the head of her spoon had been blown clean off, leaving a long, jagged stump. Her eyes then glanced over the hand that was holding the spoon. There were splinters of pewter embedded all over her arm, which she immediately set to removing. She hissed as she pulled out the first shard. The blood that welled in its wake looked like she had been bitten by the world's largest mosquito. She then turned her arms up to make sure they hadn't inexplicably been grazed. </p>
<p>She looked in the mirror, and groaned when she saw more cuts littering her face and body.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"The disembodied voice seemed genuine with their desire. Even if they weren't, what else could she do? She’d probably die before she would ever get close to finding a cure. But was it worth selling her soul if it meant the possibility of saving countless others? She was not fully convinced, but Sonya was already running out of options."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a day since her first attempt at making a potion, and with no cauldron Sonya had no other choice than to pour over the books she had brought to her makeshift study. The cool air and the scaping of her chair against stone made her reminisce about the past, at least the small things that made things less unbearable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she worked as a mercenary under Grieth, the mage would bring some reading material when it was her turn to watch the prisoners. The dungeon was a good distance away from any potential revelry, and she had perfected the art of silencing a rowdy prisoner with a single glare. This, and the explosion in the main room, was what inspired her to convert the jail in the basement of the Abode. She was sitting on a chair she found in the previous occupant's bedroom, brushing her bandaged fingers through her tangled hair. From where she was sitting, she could see the top of her head in the mirror she had hanged at the other side of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She licked her finger and turned to the next page, hoping to find what she was missing from her concoction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at the page, her finger resting on the line she wanted to read but her eyes, yet her eyes darted around the first word. She took a deep breath and willed herself to look at the line at the end of her finger. Whenever she tried to read, the voice in her head would not follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her about five attempts at reading the same line to realise it wasn't just fatigue that was distracting her. There was something, something that wasn't her inner voice, that was too irritating to ignore once she noticed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let me help you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonya elected to ignore the voice, doubling her efforts to read the text she had struggled to take in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can give you the power to cure them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonya narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She had spent enough time in the Duma Faithful to know such abilities came at a price.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can do it myself," she spat, turning her attention back to the tome.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We both know that's not true.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not giving my soul to you!" she shouted as she slammed the book shut. The noise echoed across the room before it fell back to silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice returned after what seemed like a moment of contemplation.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your soul would be required, but I wouldn't waste it like </span>
  </em>
  <span>he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Waste was the perfect word to describe what Duma did to the souls he reaped, his choices had become increasingly erratic as his mind -and body- deteriorated. She had seen him the day she fled the priory, just after her sisters had sacrificed themselves. The mage had smelled his rotted flesh before she even saw him, which shattered the strong and resilient image of the god that the Faithful had fed her over the years. When she questioned her father, he brushed her off with some excuse of needing more souls to sustain him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Why would a mighty, omnipotent god like Duma need her soul to survive?' she had thought. She was just a child, which led her to question why he would need the souls of children. Her father had never sacrificed his own soul, so why should she? ‘If Duma needed souls that badly, any kind would do.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment, she deemed the Faithful to be full of hypocrites and liars. And she doubted that the voice would be any different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What would you do to me?" she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would make you the most powerful mage in all of Valentia. You will be able to call on  Medusa's power, my power, whenever you want.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what do you get out of it?” If Duma was anything to go by, this Medusa would want something in return for her abilities.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The same thing as you. I find these witches… bothersome.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The disembodied voice seemed genuine with their desire. Even if they weren't, what else could she do? She’d probably die before she would ever get close to finding a cure. But was it worth selling her soul if it meant the possibility of saving countless others? She was not fully convinced, but Sonya was already running out of options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll work with you, but on one condition,” she said, pausing to phrase her request to close as many loopholes as possible. “The contract ends when the last of Duma’s witches has been restored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is done. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head was pounding, while she heard the voice layering over itself until it was unintelligible. The pain was so intense she sank down and wrapped her arms around herself. When the noise reached its crescendo, every single layer said the same mantra:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is the power of Medusa. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When she came to, she felt like she had drunk two bottles of Ram wine and banged her head against a wall, but other than that she felt the same as before. She stumbled to the other side of the room, assuming she would look as washed-out as she felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realised how wrong she was when she looked in the mirror. Surprisingly, her skin was the same colour as before, rather than the dull grey she expected. Her eyes were also unchanged, her purple irises and white sclera were perfectly normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did shock her was the appearance of horns and pointed ears in her reflection. The image raised her hand to feel where the rounded ends of her ear was now a point. She half-expected Medusa to make a snide comment about her vanity, but she hadn't said a word since she made the deal. Out of curiosity, she unwrapped a piece of bandage around her finger. The cuts and scrapes, even ones scarred over from past fights and past skirmishes, had vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no way I can go out like this,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought. The closest village wouldn't hesitate to turn their pitchforks on her, given the tales they told of Nuibaba. It was also difficult to go around without them noticing something suspicious. Sonya decided it would be wise to send a message to someone she could trust. She returned to her desk, opened one of the drawers and got out some fresh parchment and envelopes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a few people that could help that jumped to mind, all of whom were present when Duma was finally put down. The first was Celica, the Queen of Zofia. They hadn't kept in touch since she was coronated, but she mentioned being a witch once, which meant she must have been cured. </span>
  <span>There was also Genny, a cleric that she had felt a kindred spirit with. She knew little about witches but she would be more sympathetic than Celica. Nothing against the queen, but she had proven to be zealous to a fault. A petty part of her also resented the queen for trusting Sonya's father and getting everyone trapped in Duma Tower for over a month.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"There's no use in getting worked up about something that was in the past,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought. Sonya needed to find a way to use her new powers for her research. And in order to do that, she had to contact the merchant who supplied her with her ingredients. She needed a new cauldron and spoon, and she needed a fresh batch of mana herbs. With her mind made up, she picked up a quill and started to write. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One Valentian month is about the same as three normal months. Celica's crew was stuck in the basement for a /long/ time. Can't really blame Sonya for being reticent about contacting Celica.</p><p>So after some time, I finally got to the soul selling. This work is unbeta'd and I just finished a nightshift, so any mistakes are my own.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Helloooo~</p>
<p>Thank you for taking the time to read this, there's no soul-selling yet but that comes next chapter. </p>
<p>I've had this plot bunny in my head for a while now, especially with how ambiguous Sonya's ending is in SoV and the implication that Medusa is an independent entity in the Valentian Accordion. I'm planning of making this a two-shot but that might change.</p>
<p>Kudos and Comments are appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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